Rhapsody of the Impennate
by Ariadne The Alchemist
Summary: Ep. II based. Canaan gets a nasty virus via U.M.N., is sequentially ordered into quarantine, and begins to seriously question the morals of humans. Guess who’s the willing volunteer to help keep him sane? Cxc, angstfluff, chaos POV.


Impennate – having flightless wings

I love chaosXCanaan…

(Full commentary at the end.)

* * *

_What does it mean to be human? _

_Can you answer me that? _

_Or… do you not even know yourself…? _

* * *

The first thing that happened was the door to the Elsa's bridge flew opened. 

The Captain of the Elsa, still sitting atop his throne, whipped around and barked, "Hammer!" to the intruder, "Where the hell have you been? Your shift started over an hour ago!"

"Sorry Captain," Hammer, the "intruder," gasped between breaths, "But… you guys will never guess what just happened!"

I knew without even looking up that the Captain and Tony were scoffing in disbelief. You see, this little rag-tag ship, for the longest time only four hands strong, had been through enough hell and high water that to say "you'll never guess" was practically blaspheme. Tell us something we _don't _know. Of course, I knew this fact wasn't going to stop Hammer in the least.

"I just got back from the Durandal," he continued excitedly, not wavering at all, just as I expected, "I was talking with Little Master and, well… apparently one of the Realians is _sick_."

I perked up. "Sick?" laughed Tony, "Realians can't get sick, stupid! They're on different wavelengths or something, and it's impossible for them to get the same diseases we get. Kinda like why you never see a dog walking around with a cold, or something."

"You're comparing Realians to dogs now Tony?" Matthews questioned from his perch, "And dogs _can_ get colds by the way…"

Tony threw up his hands in defense. "Just making a point, meant no disrespect at all."

"_Anyway,_" Hammer continued impatiently, "It's true that Realians can't get a cold, but think about it. What they _can _get is a-"

"A virus," I stated. "A computer virus."

Hammer spun around and looked impressed. "Yeah! That's exactly it! You see? chaos knows what I'm talking about!"

Tony still refused to give up without a fight. "But don't they have, like, super mega virus-blockers to prevent that from happening?"

"Normally yeah, but this must have been the _mother_ load of all viruses, 'cause it broke the protection program like it was nothing! It's happened before, don't get me wrong, but this is a new virus. It's programmed to attack Realians, and _no one_ has ever seen one like it before!"

He paused for effect. "So… one of the Realians accidentally got it from the U.M.N. They just logged on and boom! Man, what I wouldn't give to study that lovely piece of programming… The guy who designed it must've known what they were doing."

"The guy who designed it is also a major ass. Why would anyone wanna do that anyway?'

Hammer shrugged. "Well, from what the Durandal has gathered so far the virus was meant to collect classified data, then leave the Realian temporarily crippled. But apparently it wasn't quite complete, because the Realian hasn't had any data loss. Maybe this was supposed to be a test run, or something. Anyway, everyone on the Durandal is freaking out 'cause they're worried it's contagious. They don't want all the Realians to suddenly not function, 'cause you know they _do_ share the same wavelengths, and could transfer it very quickly. I mean shoot! Something could go astray and it could kill them! So Jr.'s going to have to put the Realian into quarantine, they'll be able to study it there. Hopefully it'll just blow over…"

"Well that sucks," Tony said wisely, "But hey, who was the one who got the virus anyway? Ah! Don't tell me it's that cute little MOMO!"

"_Cute little_…? You're such a pervert!"

"What! I didn't mean it like-!"

Hammer scowled. "Whatever whatever, it isn't MOMO anyway, it's that grouchy one that hangs around here sometimes, you know?"

…Grouchy?

He scratched his head, "Dang, what's his name again…?"

"It isn't… _Canaan_, is it?" I inquired.

"Yeah that's it!" he exclaimed, "Man, I kinda feel bad, they're going to stick him in a special room in the isolation ward, won't be allowed to leave or anything. Least until they think he's better."

"That's kinda cruel though man, you know, to lock him up by himself," Tony mused.

"Yeah," Hammer agreed, "But he strikes me as the loner type anyway. Doubt that being alone would bother him _that_ much…"

I remained wordless, listening, and silently searching my thoughts for some kind of rationale. Tony was correct; it was cruel to just leave him all alone. Isolation is for the wrongdoer, and it can get to anyone, even Realians…

I abruptly stood up. "Excuse me…" I murmured quietly, I don't think anyone heard me at first. By some luck the Captain turned around as I was heading out the door.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going chaos?" Matthews demanded.

"…I'm going to go see Jr."

"Eh? Why?"

"I'm going to volunteer to stay with Canaan until he gets better."

"Wha- what! You're kidding, right? Why do you have to do it! There's important stuff to do around here, things to file and engines to fix! These morons can't handle it all!" There was an insulted sounding "hey!" in the background.

"I'm sorry Captain, but this is something I want to do. Don't worry, you'll be able to manage without me for a few days."

"A few da…!" I didn't hear the rest of his sentence. The doors had already swung shut behind me, dampening out the shouts from the bridge. I sighed and straightened out my gloves, turned, and started walking briskly toward the Durandal.

* * *

Jr.'s eyes turned as big as saucers, and said in disbelief. "You serious? Why do _you_ wanna do it?" 

My eyes narrowed with annoyance. "You know you're the second person to say something like that. Do I really need a reason?"

"Well, I guess not, I suppose I am kinda stuck. I can't just send a 100-series 'cause the government's worried it'll spread and mutate into something nastier, so that throws out them. It'd be a shame to spare one of my doctors, and none of my other officers want to step up either, nobody really knows him. And, well, I guess no one really cares that much…"

I said nothing.

He rolled his eyes. "Ah fine, I see your point you stubborn piece of work. He's in the Isolation Area, room 3-E, here's the key. Just try to keep him as comfortable as you can, _if _you can, and send a report if something particularly abnormal happens. 'Cause it's you, I can convince them not to put any surveillance or anything either."

I took the key from his outstretched hand. "I appreciate that."

"Now remember, you can't leave unless you get special permission, and under _no _circumstances can you let him out! Not unless someone with a nice fancy doctor degree tells me he's cured. Capisce?"

"I know what to do, Jr."

He sighed and waved me off, muttering something about me being too nice for my own good.

* * *

Before I went to the Isolation Area, I took the liberty of borrowing several of Jr.'s books. I figured he wouldn't mind. I needed something to occupy myself with anyway. 

The door to Canaan's room wasn't hard to find. It had a warning flashing over the entrance that said "quarantine… no admittance." I took Jr.'s key from my pocket and ran it through the slot. It gave a pinging noise and flew open, revealing a sort of mini-decontamination room. I stepped inside.

The door sealed firmly shut behind me and the room glowed warm, the smell of disinfectants filling my nose. _Isn't this a bit extreme Jr.? _I thought.

A buzzer sounded overhead and the heavy doors in front swung open.

It was pitch black, no source of light emanated within save a soft blue glow from the medicine bed, where the object of so much worry was laying. His golden eyes blinked rapidly in confusion and focused on where I stood, then he said in his deep, monotone voice,

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

I couldn't help but smile, striding in and sitting down in the lone chair. "It's nice to see you too, Canaan."

"Why are you here?" he growled, "I thought Jr. was actually going to do something smart and leave me alone, or at least just send one of his lackeys. Can't believe he asked _you._"

"He didn't ask me," I simply replied, "I wanted to come."

This must have humbled him slightly for he didn't bounce back with a smart comment.

"Well," I continued quietly, "I didn't come here to talk about myself, I'm more worried about you. How are you feeling?"

"Not very well," he said flatly, "But it's… bearable."

"Haven't the doctors tried to give you something?"

He snorted. "Only anything and everything they had in the infirmary. None of it has helped though. The virus is attacking my hard drive, see, and normally that would be that, except it's giving me such a headache in the process…"

"Is that not normal?"

"No. Realian viruses don't usually cause physical pain."

"I'm sorry. You'll get better soon, your programming is working on quarantining the virus, right?"

"Hn, I guess so," he replied bitterly.

"Just try and get some sleep," I replied kindly, "Rest can do wonders for anyone."

He smirked. "How can I argue with such eloquence? I'll try as long as you keep quiet."

"Try?"

"Sleep never comes easily to me. Let's just leave it at that."

He rolled over on his side, and that seemed to be it.

With nothing to do, I leaned back in the chair and cracked open one of Jr.'s dusty novels. Who knows how long I'd be in here…

* * *

It is one of my more recent theories, one that I've been pondering for quite some time, that Canaan is secretly, surreptitiously, and unknowingly… lost. Or perhaps "unique" would be a more appropriate word. He is capable of kindness, I've seen it. He is also quite capable of being… not so kind. Then again, aren't we all like that? I can tell what he is thinking at all times, yet I cannot see his mind. He wanders like he feels he has no purpose, yet he seems to see so much. He's also… quiet. And if he speaks the words are usually cynical. He doesn't have much fondness for me. It's all quite a paradox, you see. 

Still…

I could be wrong about everything, but I've learned to trust myself on these things. Many… _many_ years of watching and listening have trained me well. Perhaps it's just wishful thinking, or maybe I'm just bored and need a new project. But something tells me there's more to him that meets the eye.

Maybe I'm just fooling myself, hoping that he could somehow be different.

Or maybe… maybe I'm just a bit lonely. Just a little…

Or maybe… no no, that's enough for now, I need to stop asking myself so many questions. I went back to reading my book.

* * *

"It figures it'd be me." 

I glanced up from my book, not really startled by his voice, he _was_ the only other person in the room. "You're awake," I said simply, "You couldn't sleep?" He shook his head.

"What figures it'd be you?" I asked.

"That me, of all the thousands of Realians that exist in the galaxy, would be the first one to get this stupid virus. I mean, what are the odds? A million to one? And all that I was trying to do was update my software…"

I smiled, "Yes, you definitely had a bit of… bad luck."

He looked at me curiously.

"Did I say something strange?"

"Well, it's just that you don't strike me as the kind of person who believes in luck."

"Hmm… maybe not luck, then. How about cosmic coincidence."

He frowned. "You're an oddity chaos," he said flatly. I decided to take this as a compliment.

He shifted around under his covers. "It's cold in here…" he complained.

I looked on in concern. "Not really…"

"Then _I'm_ cold."

"I'll check to see if there's another blanket," I said simply. I got up from my chair and opened the cabinet next to the door, pulling out another thick sheet. I took it over to his bed and tucked it around him.

"Maybe you have a fever," I said.

"Realians don't get fevers."

"They aren't supposed to get sick either," I said, "Let's check just in case."

I searched around for a thermometer, in vain as it turned out. The special bed he was on didn't seem to read temperature, either. So I resorted to the old fashion method, pulled off a glove, and pressed my hand to his forehead. His eyes said nothing, but he slightly squirmed around under my touch.

He was warm, and still shivering a little despite the additional blanket. A fever, of some kind, definitely. What a strange virus… was it tricking his body into believing he actually had a disease? That it could kill by generating heat? It seemed so…

"Do you mind?" he growled.

"Hm?" I realized my hand was still on his forehead, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable. "…I apologize," I said, and quickly removed it.

"I don't like being touched," he said flatly, once I had returned to my chair, "Don't do it again. Please."

His words stung, but I shrugged it off.

"Nothing personal," he added as a side note.

"I understand," I said with a sigh. He waited around to see if I would say something else. But I simply remained silent.

* * *

"…I'm… sorry." 

It took me a minute to realize it was Canaan who was speaking. Never hearing those two words emerge from his lips, I had to second guess myself. "You're… what, Canaan?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, with no less sincerity than the first time.

"For what?"

"That you're… I'm… I'm like this. Sick. Irritable. You… I wouldn't have wanted you to be cooped up in a place like this. I wouldn't have wished it on you."

His speech was almost timid. Second guessing _himself_? Is that possible? No, it was probably just the virus but…

"Why?" I asked gently.

"Because you're… nice," he said simply, although it rather sounded like he was trying to force it out. But still, surprising to hear, and quite flattering of course.

"Oh?" I inquired, rather mischievously.

"You're different from everyone else." The playful grin on my face faltered. So now he can read _my_ mind?

"Actually…" he continued quietly, "There's a question I need to ask you. Because you think differently, I think you might actually be able to answer it."

I was intrigued. "Of course Canaan, what is it?"

He tilted his head over to where I sat, golden eyes all aglow, and said quite seriously, "What does it mean to be human?"

I was so taken aback at the depth of his inquiry that I didn't respond right away. He went on, "Can you answer me that? Or…" he sounded wary, "Do you not even know yourself…?"

I choose my words very carefully. "I think," I said slowly, "that there isn't one simple answer to your question. Being human can mean different things, for different people."

"For example…?"

"For some," I said, "Being human is to search for their purpose in this word, to find some meaning. Knowledge, power, proof of existence. Others, it means finding love, loving and being loved by another. Yet for others, their status and wealth is what they believe makes them alive. It… varies. Values differ from person to person. It's a difficult question."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. What is it that defines you?"

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Something funny?"

"No, it's just that I think I've heard those words somewhere before..." He looked at me puzzled.

"Honestly… I don't know. I guess I'm a bit lost myself," I said with a smile.

"Oh…" he said. Why did he sound so disappointed?

"What about you, Canaan?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not human. Nothing defines me."

I bit my lip, he sounded so _sad_. That probably was not a smart question to ask. Trying to get his mind on something else I asked, "Are you… feeling any better now Canaan?" He paused and slowly shook his head.

"You don't think you can get any sleep?" He repeated the same action.

"…I am thirsty though," he finally decided.

I smiled and said, "Well, that is one thing I can fix."

I filled a glass of water from the adjoining room and bought it to his side. He slowly sat up in his bed, winced at some pain, but tried not to show it. I pretended not to notice.

He gratefully took the glass from my outstretched hand and drank it down.

"What brought on this interest in human definition anyway?" I asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

He frowned. "You know chaos? I'm not really sure…" His brow deepened. "I just feel strange. Am I acting strange?"

"A little," I admitted, "But it's probably just the virus."

He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. "What is it?"

"Well you see…" he began.

"I'm stuck in here," he said flatly, "I'm sick and I'm a prisoner. I can't leave, I can barely move from this bed, and I'm just sitting here wondering where the mighty human morals are in all this. I've been told my whole existence that humans are better than Realians, because they have some sort of moral spirit that we somehow lack. "You Realians," they say, "Have no consciousness." We alone have no distinction between right and wrong, that if we were told to we would murder children in their sleep and do all sorts of horrible things. The way I see it, if I were human, I'd be cured by now. If I were human, there would've been no hesitation in trying to get me better. But instead I'm studied by them, and they were all ready and willing to let me suffer alone. Maybe that's why I asked, because I'm wondering what's so great about being human, what makes them so different. And you know what? I think that they're just self-righteous holier than though hypocrites." And then he finally breathed.

I could only stare for a while. "Are you finished?"

"…yes," he said.

I took the empty glass from him. " Canaan…" I said slowly, "I think those are the most words you've ever spoken in your life."

He looked down, I assumed he was a bit ashamed.

I tilted my head. "Don't be embarrassed." He still said nothing.

" Canaan," I said, "What you said about humans… is true. For the most part." He looked a little surprised.

"But not all of them are like that," I assured, "Believe it or not, humans can be good and just sometimes. They just… loose sight of the import things." He didn't look too convinced.

"Jr. was worried about you, and so was the crew of the Elsa. I'm sure others were concerned about you too," I said quietly, "And… you aren't alone, because I'm here. See?"

He was quiet for a long time. He leaned back into the pillows and I noticed he was shivering again. "I feel dizzy," he suddenly said.

"After such an outburst, I'd be a little dizzy too," I said smiling. I started to reach out and pat his hand, then remembered he didn't like to be touched.

"I'm really tired chaos…" he murmured.

"Want to try and sleep again?" He nodded his head.

"Maybe…" he began. He looked at the book I had left on the floor. "What are you reading anyway?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, just something I grabbed from Jr.'s collection, I didn't really look at it at first. It's old, a nineteenth century collection, actually."

"Maybe if you… read, some, it'd help me sleep."

"You… want me to read to you?" I asked, fairly amazed.

"I'm willing to try anything," he said flatly.

I decided not to question him and reached out to grab the book. I started to get up from where I sat, but he said, "You can stay there. If you want." I nodded and remained on the edge of his bed.

I flipped the pages to the middle, the words had no title. I cleared my throat.

"Alas, I cannot feel," I read slowly, "for 'tis not feeling. This standing motionless upon the golden threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams. Gazing, entranced, down the gorgeous vista, and thrilling as I see,"

His eyes started to look heavy.

"Upon the right, upon the left, and all the way along."

They were closing.

"Amid empurpled vapors, far away,"

He was asleep. "To where the prospect terminates- thee only."

I leaned down and kissed his slumbering face.

* * *

This is not love. 

Or… is it?

How can one simple being fascinate me so? Amaze me? After I had seen so much…?

What of him? Is he capable of… love? Does he categorize me as one of the "self-righteous" humans? Does he even recognize my existence?

He's… off. Hiding something. Or innocent? His perception is unique, for a Realian… no, for a living being. He's honest. He's handsome… oh stop it, that's just superfluous.

Have I waited this long to feel anything… simply for him? Is that possible? So long an existence waiting, just waiting, and then suddenly…?

My head is thinking in circles.

Well, the only thing I can do at this point, the only thing, is to help keep him going. Give him a little hope, if I can. Hope and sanity. Exist so he is not alone. These things, I can do.

* * *

Unfortunately, his rest was a short one. 

I had been reading, of course, quietly on the edge of his bed. It was sudden; I realized the covers beneath me were beginning to tremble.

I looked up to his face and was horrified to find it was twisted and distorted. His eyes were tightly closed as if in pain. Was he having a nightmare?

" Canaan," I whispered, reaching over and giving his shoulder a slight jostle. He just continued to shiver.

" Canaan!" I exclaimed, doing a poor job of keeping my worry suppressed, "Wake up!"

He bolted straight up in bed and nearly tossed me to the floor. His eyes were huge and wild, his breath heavy, audible, and he looked… absolutely _terrified._

But… I thought Realians couldn't…

"Wha- what, where…?" he gasped, "How did- how did I get…?"

…be afraid?

" Canaan…?" I asked carefully, "Are you alright?"

Apparently, he couldn't hear me. He was looking around frantically as if confused where he was. He tried to struggle up but then cringed horribly, letting out a strangled cry and gripping his head in pain. I grabbed his quavering shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"What happened?" he demanded, voice sounding anxious. He didn't try to struggle against my grasp.

"You… you were thrashing around in your sleep," I explained slowly, "I was worried so I woke you up."

"Awake, I'm awake? But that… I was having… a nightmare…!"

"What happened in your nightmare?" I asked patiently.

"I… I don't remember!" he shouted. He was _shouting_. Had he ever "shouted" before? He was panicking, or something incredibly close to it.

" Canaan," I hurriedly said, "You have to try and calm down."

"Calm down? Calm _down?_" he demanded angrily. Another wave of pain washed over him and he cradled his head between his hands. He had a look of absolute misery and helplessness, if he weren't so strong he would have broken by now.

My soul and my empathy ached. I knew I needed to do something, _anything_, before he damaged himself further. So quickly, and silently, as to not evoke any protest, I gathered him up in my arms and pressed him as close to me as I dared.

His skin was white-hot, damp with sweat, and the ever-present tremble was still wracking his body. In his daze he fought briefly against me, but quickly gave up.

I felt almost a pang of guilt in my stomach, like I was somehow taking advantage of him. But that's ridiculous, I'm not doing anything, just… holding him. That is not wrong, I'm only trying to help.

"chaos…." he murmured suddenly, "My head… _hurts_…"

"I know…" I said soothingly.

"Make it _stop_."

"I can't, you know that," I replied sadly. I thought he was going to resume his struggle against me, but he didn't.

"Something is eating me from the inside out," he hissed, "What is it? It won't go away and it's… I'm…"

Suddenly, he grabbed out and grasped his fingers around my arm.

"Don't leave me alone," he said.

_Don't leave me alone?_ I looked into his face with absolute pity and sadness. I was gazing upon the quintessence of fear, a terror that had lain dormant and suppressed for far too long. It was there, erupting right before my eyes. He was feeling absolute human suffering, and had asked me, _me,_ to stop it.

So I spoke to him in the calmest voice I could muster. "I'm not going to leave you," I said.

I felt the tension wash out of him like a breath of cold air. His entire being turned quiet. He had collapsed, and was asleep.

Asleep… and he slept so peacefully still in my embrace…

* * *

Those who say Realians cannot feel, cannot comprehend what it means to love or hate, think that they don't exist, do not live, and that it's impossible for them to be afraid… those people are fools. 

I did not, could not, see him as a piece of equipment that was broken. He was a real, whole living being in real and terrible pain. Why did it take a disease to finally let him breathe? For a brief moment, he didn't seem so… empty.

I still think he's not telling me something. Like there existed a part of his past he wished to forget. Was there something in his subconscious that this "disease" awakened? That's possible, heaven knows there are some things _I'd_ like to erase.

If that is the case, then I will let him rest. For now…

* * *

He came out of his peaceful slumber once. For only a scarce few moments, but to me it seemed a scarce few eternities. My arms were tired and numb from holding him upright for so long, but I hardly noticed. He awoke with much less amazement as he had the last time, perhaps a good thing; it would not be good if he had yet another "episode." 

He didn't budge. He blinked to life and asked, voice muddled with sleep, "What… happened?"

"Well…" I began cautiously, "You kind of woke up… and were a… little…" I bit my lip, wary about my wording, "…dizzy."

"Oh…" he said. I felt him frown against my chest, "chaos, what are we doing?"

"I'm comforting you," I said stubbornly, "and you are trying to get better."

"Simple enough…" he muttered.

He paused. "chaos, your hands are cold."

I almost felt like chastising him for making such a random comment at a time like _this_.

"S…sorry…" For some reason my voice tripped over itself.

"But…" he continued, "the rest of you is… warm." His nose disappeared into the folds of my clothes. "Nice and warm…" he murmured.

I frowned. "You're dizzy again," I accused.

"Nonsense."

" Canaan…" My voice sounded almost pleading.

"Be quiet."

Life seemed to finally spring into his dead limbs. He picked up his arms and somehow got them tangled around my neck and hair. Or had they been there all along? Maybe this dizzy feeling was contagious…

Should I have said something? Along the lines of "let go?" No, that wasn't what I wanted, this place was quite perfect the way it was, but the guilt in my stomach was weighing down like a rock.

But then, looking down at his perfectly content and… peaceful, face, his warm fingertips lodged against me, all worry and nonsense seemed to vanish from my mind.

* * *

Canaan's being seemed to get heavier and warmer with each ticking second. My arms had no feeling left in them. Moving was out of the question. The bed seemed to turn to quicksand, and I was sinking into it. The air around, stifling, cold, crisp. 

When I closed my eyes, I knew nothing once more.

* * *

"chaos." 

Hmmm…? Mm… who's bothering me? It's too early…

"chaos. Wake up."

Wait, I'm asleep?

I heard an annoyed sigh. "If you're not going to get up then I…"

I flew awake and sat up in bed. I carefully rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn't still dreaming.

" Canaan… you're up? Do you feel any better?"

"I feel fine. A doctor has already been in here to check up on me."

"A doctor? Then is the virus gone?"

"According to them, yes. I'm just waiting right now for Jr. to get the release in."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

He shrugged. "Didn't seem important."

My heart sank to the bottom.

The sweet Canaan, the tired, sorrowful, perfectly sincere Canaan, was gone now. This Canaan would not dare to let me hold him. This Canaan would not dare beg me to stay beside him. I sighed quietly and wobbled to my feet. I rubbed my eyes again, annoyed by how bright it was in there.

"Well… I guess it doesn't matter," I said, "What's important is that you're okay..."

The door beeped and a man wearing a white coat shuffled in.

" Canaan? Ah yes, here is the release here. We've already gotten all our readings and samples, so you can go now."

"About time…"

The doctor motioned him to the door and Canaan quickly strode through it.

"Wait Canaan, I wanted to-"

Either he didn't hear me or he chose not to. He kept walking and didn't turn around.

I couldn't really blame him. He had woken up in my arms, what could he have possibly thought? Good things don't come without a price…

"Um… you may leave too, you know," the doctor said to me when I didn't move.

I nodded my head but said nothing, and disappeared out the door.

* * *

This was the final verdict on the virus. 

It was dubbed as non-lethal. The stages were as follows: First it infected the host's environmental programs, giving a fever, dehydration, irritability, and restlessness. Next stage was the infection of the thought-processing itself, giving the Realian a sense of delusion, anxiety, and even nightmares. After attacking this section, the Realian's programs finally track it down and eliminate it. The Realian has complete recovery.

It was given the name DX Virus #562. It was tucked away in an archive, and almost immediately forgotten.

All this I read on the tiny little computer in my hands, and for some reason I felt like crushing it between my fingers.

* * *

Amazing what can happen in such a short amount of time. 

All that transpired less than a day ago, but it already seemed so far away, so unreal, like trying to remember a distant memory or thought. Surreal. Quiet. You get the picture…

Although, I probably shouldn't be daydreaming right now. Captain Matthews gave me a royal chewing out for being absent so long, my duties pilling one on top of the other. He had ordered me not to leave my station until all, and I mean _all_, my work was completed. That was three hours ago. The rest of the crew has already gone to bed for the night.

But I couldn't focus on work, not at a time like this. I drummed my fingers on the panel and sighed. What am I going to do now?

The heavy green lights showing the hour droned on in front of me. 1:45 and 12 seconds. 1:45 and 13 seconds.

Maybe something interesting will happen to get my mind on something else. Maybe the Gnosis will attack or a star will go Super Nova…

1:45 and 15 seconds.

Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get back to work, it'll make time go faster.

1:45 and 14 seconds. Wait, what?

I crumpled into my seat. Even time, apparently, was against me now.

…

I…

…miss him.

* * *

Then, maybe something like a miracle happened. 

chaos had fallen asleep. His figure was hunched over on his panel, heavy and alone, as if some invisible force was holding his spirit down. There was nothing there save the stillness of time around him.

The door to the bridge softly crept opened. A strong figure stood in the doorway and entered, moving slowly and quietly, cautiously, as if he thought he shouldn't be there. He reached out an uncertain hand to the slumbering chaos and touched his shoulder. He stirred underneath and opened his eyes.

The Realian bent down next to chaos' half-awakened ears and murmured,

_"…I can't sleep." _

chaos thought carefully his response. He slowly rose to a sitting position.

_"What do you want to do?"_ he asked.

Canaan looked unsure, but then said,

_"I want to stay with you."_

So he did.

Their footsteps echoed noiselessly against the white panels, together they went on, chaos' hand gripping tightly to Canaan's hesitant one. He led him to his room, to his bed, and carefully placed him down to rest. chaos knelt at his bedside, still faithfully holding on, smiling at him, content, happy, exhilarated. He softly caressed Canaan's strong face, touched his hair, and whispered to him amazing things. Kissed his face and lips, until he finally fell asleep…

And when they finally rested, both dreamed of flying.

_End_

* * *

YAAY!! Canaan and chaos! It has been too long since I wrote a fic about you guys… 

Phew, that was pretty long, huh? Actually, this is my third fic to spit out in three days, I've been sick and haven't had anything else better to do. Sighs…

But! I've gotten a chance to finally finish this! It was sitting on my hard drive gathering dust for waaay too long.

This is my first attempt to write completely in chaos' POV. Erm… I tired to make him sound all philosophical and kewl, and he asks himself and lot of questions. He's an oddity. (Muahaha, I made Canaan call him an oddity.) But that is why I lurve him. ;)

As always, I'd love to here what everyone thinks.

Cheers!

-ATA


End file.
